Chapter Forty-Six
Frey
It was a heady feeling to be in control like this. Lane had a hand in giving him the confidence, when Frey had come home an hour ago and been informed Booker had expressly gone against his wishes.
Lane, who had forty years of being with Derick, knew his tells when he told a lie. It seemed that when Derick had gotten home from his trip to see Booker’s father, he had confessed to what they’d been up to. Lane had more than willingly shared the information with Frey, and that had given him the time to consider a course of action. One that Booker would not forget in a hurry.
There’d been no sign of Derick and by the smug look Lane had worn, Frey suspected Derick was possibly otherwise occupied up in the bedroom, where Lane headed after their talk. It had given Frey the idea, so he had asked Jupiter, who’d arrived after Lane had left, if he could take Emmy for a couple of hours. His eagerness to have Emmy continued to surprise Frey, but right now, that wasn’t what was on his mind.
No, it was the man who he literally had by the balls. He squeezed them a little harder after rolling them in his palm, watching how Booker’s nostrils flared and sweat gleamed on his skin.
“So… you lied to me?” he asked sweetly, licking his lips, inhaling the musky scent of his mate, which drove his desire to spike. His own neglected shaft wanted some attention with the way it pressed against the fabric of his cotton pants.
“I didn’t mean to,” he whined, making Frey’s confidence skyrocket.
He didn’t want to make this fierce man cower, no. What he wanted was for Booker to understand that he was making a point. There should be no lies between them. None. Frey would not tolerate that, despite how a part of him hoped Booker had given that big bully a solid kick to his balls.
“Is that so?” He held Booker’s hooded gaze, his pupils engulfing the brown of his irises. Slashes of deep red covered Booker’s cheekbones, which were noticeable above his beard. “So you were planning tonight to come home and tell me what you’d done?”
Frey noticed the hitch in Booker’s breath as he glanced away before returning his attention to Frey when he gave a firm squeeze. “Did you?” Frey pushed, Booker’s eyes not moving from Frey.
Booker’s whole body shuddered, the open shirt he still wore revealing how his chest heaved when he shook his head. “I won’t do it again,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I swear, I won’t.”
Frey came closer to the dripping cock, running the tip of his tongue over the slick head, one hand slipping around the root and moving up the sticky shaft. Hot and silky to touch, Frey angled the head so he could swipe his tongue over the whole surface. Booker’s essence coated his tongue as he brought it back into his mouth and swallowed. He groaned at the slight bitterness that was all Booker.
He resisted doing more at hearing Booker’s growl of approval. No, he wasn’t quite ready to give in yet. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” he moaned as Frey slid his tongue around the head, lapping at it.
Frey’s body was burning up with need, driven by how Booker smelled and tasted. The front of his pants was stuck against his shaft, his bottom not much better as he leaked with excitement. “How do you plan to make it up to me?”
Another shuddery breath and those eyes pinned Frey in place with pure desire. “I’ll do whatever you want. Give you whatever you desire.”
Frey released Booker, doing his best to conceal how much those few words affected him. “Lie face down on the bed.”
At the bridge of his nose, a wrinkle appeared as he looked at the bed and back to Frey. “Face down?” There was nothing about the question that said Booker was worried, yet…
“Yes,” Frey answered, his lips quivering when Booker let out a heaved sigh and walked to the bed, slower than his usual pace. Frey didn’t want to top, no. But he wanted to taste his bear's ass. Savor it.
It was a thing of beauty. High, tight and round like two halves of a peach. Frey wanted to sink his teeth into it. He wanted to lick it until Booker lost his mind. Once, he’d touched him intimately there and Booker had quickly stopped him. The noises he’d made prior revealed he’d not been averse to it, maybe just a little freaked out. At the time, Frey was too busy coming apart to pay too much attention to being stopped.
Today, while he’d showered and got ready for Booker’s return home, he had thought about that reaction. Understood why his bear held back. He didn’t need to do that anymore with the level of intimacy between them. Frey wasn’t scared. He wanted Booker to let go, and this was how he wanted to achieve it. Show him he wasn’t fragile any longer because Booker had changed everything.
Booker rested his head on the arms he folded when he removed his shirt and positioned himself in the center of the bed. His eyes tracked Frey as he went to the bedside drawers, where he’d placed some scented oil that he’d found in the bathroom. He made a show of opening the bottle and putting one knee on the bed and leaning over Booker. His back was a work of art. All golden skin covering firm flexing muscles. Booker’s ass also flexed as Frey poured a liberal amount of oil just above it, at the hollow of Booker’s back.
Frey took pleasure in how Booker had displayed himself, so placing down the bottle, he stripped off. Booker’s eyes fired with lust as they wandered over his exposed skin, lingering on his erect shaft. Too eager to remain too long under the avid appraisal, Frey straddled Booker’s legs. They both moaned at the touch of skin.
Wanting a better position, Frey wriggled down, feeling the hair on Booker’s legs brush sensually against his until he sat on Booker’s thighs.
“You aren’t to move unless I say you can, understood?” he murmured as he dipped his fingers into the oil to coat them.
“I’ll try.”
The dry, rasped response made Frey’s grin widen. “No,” he squeezed his thighs against Booker’s, provoking another moan. “You will not move unless I say you can.”
Booker sighed heavily and glanced over his shoulder at Frey. “I’ve created a monster.”
Frey couldn’t have agreed more. “Then it should teach you to behave in the future.” Without further discussion, Frey ran his oily fingers over the crease of Booker’s ass, making him tense. It didn’t stop the oil from seeping between his cheeks. The position only allowed for his fingers to tease. For now, that was fine.
Booker’s ass squeezed and Frey spanked his cheek, leaving a red imprint and making his palm sting. This got another groan, this one more guttural. His cock bobbed and dripped onto Booker. “What did I say?”
Not a word came from Booker while he appeared to force himself to relax, judging by the way his large body shuddered under Frey. Once he had settled, Frey went to dip his fingers back into the oil, smearing it over the golden globes of flesh, making them glisten in the lights .
“So pretty,” he murmured, more to himself as his teeth ached in his gums. His feisty fox was pushing for him to leave their mark right there on one of the firm cheeks, preferably the one with the handprint.
There was a constant stream of sexy noises coming from Booker, making Frey bolder as he lifted off carefully and demanded, “Spread your legs.”
At the lack of hesitation, Frey smiled to himself. He crawled between the spread legs and groaned at the sight of Booker’s glistening hole and heavy balls. He was hairy everywhere but his ass and balls. Frey hadn’t considered it before, but with how smooth he was down there, his bear must wax. Eager to test his theory, Frey moved to stretch out his lower body until his feet dangled off the bed. Then he placed his nose against Booker’s crease and ran it down. Oil coated his skin, the scent didn’t mask Booker’s smell and Frey groaned. “Smells so good.”
Not thinking but working on instinct, he eased Booker’s tight cheeks apart and swirled his tongue over the pink rosebud.
“Motherfucker!” Booker rasped but Frey was too busy focusing on the smooth and silky skin he lapped at, whimpering in delight.
Frey’s fingers dug into Booker’s flesh as he tasted all of his mate. His musk was intoxicating as Frey’s tongue got frisky with the rosebud, feeling it twitch under his ministrations.
He wasn’t sure how long it was before Booker’s hips started to rock. Frey didn’t want to let go of his treat, so he slapped Booker's ass cheek once more. Only this time, Booker came up on all fours, dislodging him.
Booker’s cock hung heavy between his spread thighs as he rocked back. “Fuck, touch me,” he demanded breathlessly. His entire body moved, unable to keep still, as oil spilled down his sides.
Frey rose and followed, his teeth sinking into the reddened globe, and he bit true. Blood filled his mouth and his body reacted violently. His hips surged forward, his cock hitting the side of Booker’s thigh. The hairs added to the sensation overload as he swallowed and sucked at the hard flesh.
“Argh… what… damnnnnn,” Booker cried out loud enough to make Frey’s already buzzing ears pound as he scented his mate's cum.
Frey reached blindly between Booker’s legs, his teeth not letting go of their prize, and loosely held the throbbing shaft, relishing the knowledge that his mate was coming without one stroke to his cock. Frey growled into the flesh as his teeth retracted and he jerked his hips back and forth, using Booker’s thigh for friction and coming moments later. His body bowed while he licked at his slick lips, taking in the lingering taste of Booker, giving his cock an added boost of sizzling pleasure.
Booker collapsed forward onto the covers a second after. Frey followed, barely having the wherewithal to move his hand as he splayed over Booker’s oil and sweat coated body.
Booker chugged in air like a dying man and Frey rested his cheek against Booker’s back, feeling the beat of his heart as he rose and fell repeatedly, lulling him as his eyelids drooped. Who knew being a top was so much hard work?